


To the Director of Project Freelancer,

by ConfessionForAnotherTime



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, I Don't Even Know, POV First Person, Rants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConfessionForAnotherTime/pseuds/ConfessionForAnotherTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An open letter from Epsilon to the Director.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Director of Project Freelancer,

“Could I have saved them?”

Ha. Maybe. Sometimes I wonder if I could have saved anyone in the short time I’ve been around; most of my life seems to have revolved around hurting those I’m close to in some way. I mean, I may be full of your memories, but they were my memories too. Compounded on what you did to me. To us.

That just made the whole thing worse.

I started like all of the others. We all had an origin with the Alpha. We all had one spot that we came from and it was him that we had in common. You gave us code names. Stupid, really, when you think about it. I’m going to give a name to the tortured piece of emotion that I’m going to shove into someone else’s head as an experiment to see if they can perform better. Most of us did. Most of us got a chance. When I say most of us, I mean all the fucking rest of them got so much more than I ever could because I was fucking broken. I was the reject. I was the mess. You still treated me like I could do it even though you knew that I couldn’t. You still made me think that I could meld with Washington in the way that Theta and Omega and Delta had with North, Tex, and York.

Something about that seems so fucked. Why the fuck would you implant all the memories of the project that you’re operating outside the law into a person who could blow the whistle on the whole program? Oh, right. I was purposely put in what had been presented to the others as the reject. The misfit. The child. The one who would take all the blame for the entire project being pulled down because you wanted to see how he would function with me inside his head. Good fucking job.

That’s one thing I didn’t get about you either. There’s just one fucking thing I don’t get about Dr. Leonard L. Church in the grand scheme of things: where the fuck is your common sense? Where is it? When you copied your brain to make the Alpha, did you accidentally wipe away the part that could process that? I’m just trying to remember (ha, I’m so fucking hilarious) because I really don’t get why you would subject anyone to the level of bullshit that you brought with Project Freelancer.

Carolina remembers being the best until Beta, or as you called her, Tex, came along, stealing the spotlight from her when all she wanted was some approval from you. Awesome. Winning fucking combination there. Nothing fills me with more joy than knowing that the two people who are likely the least capable have the most amount of baggage from your fucking project.

I have her memories to base everything off of. She remembers all the other freelancers. She remembers all the attention that was stolen from her. All she wanted was for you to see her as more than a tool, a soldier, and see her as your daughter. Was that too much for you? Was that more than what you could handle? Well, she handled it, despite you beating her down and treating her like she wasn’t worth the armor you put her in. She loved you in her own way and I, to this day, do not understand how anyone could. Not her, not Tex, not even Allison, you experimenting fuck. You had all these people who counted on you over the years, who trusted you, who believed in you, and you couldn’t let go.

You failed her. So much more, you failed yourself. That inability to let go made you so fucking pitiful at the end, that I’m surprised that she even bothered to give you the easy way out. It may have been a long road getting there but so much of it was painted with the blood of people who cared about what you believed in that she should have let you suffer. Like I suffered. You say that this project was a pain you inflicted on yourself? Bullshit. Alpha was different from you in the same way that all the other fragments were different. They may have been pieces of you at the beginning but in the end, when they were wiped, they were so much more than you ever could be. You saw them die before your eyes, and you didn’t have a single word to say about them in the end. At your end. And end that you were so undeserving of.

Yet, where does this leave me? I get to deal with the broken pieces that I still remember before you stole each of them from me, from the Alpha, to give to others. I don’t blame them. I blame you. I blame you for putting each of us through that. Theta was terrified that he would slip and North would get shot. Delta thought that no matter what he did, York was going to die. He figured the healing unit just no longer worked. Me? I was afraid from the moment that I was in Wash’s head because I couldn’t keep any of my thoughts to myself to spare him from all the shit you had put all of us through.

I want to say that Carolina is better than you ever gave her credit for. You may have told her at the last second that she was your greatest creation. That doesn’t undo the years of neglect and torment and self-doubt that she ensured trying to find a way to please you. If only you saw how much your little girl was going to grow up to resent you.

 

I hope you’re happy with yourself,

 

Epsilon

 

  



End file.
